


Mycroft's Knight in Shining Armor

by TheArtStudentYouHate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pride and Prejudice References, colin firth reference, kiera knightly reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27995916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtStudentYouHate/pseuds/TheArtStudentYouHate
Summary: “Christ, Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson's “herbal soothers.” They’re in the scones. They’re drug scones."
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 19
Kudos: 116





	Mycroft's Knight in Shining Armor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TryingToMystrade (TryingToScribble)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TryingToScribble/gifts).



> For years the idea of Mycroft being high and polishing off a bag of doritos in a disheveled suit has haunted me. I told Merinda to which she responded (as she usually does) with "write it." So I did. Also I'm gifting this to tryingtomystrade, for reasons that will become apparent to him in the fic. Also it should be noted that even though I live in a country in which pot is legal, I'm a nerd whose never done it so sorry if it doesn't read as accurate.

Mycroft Holmes felt… odd. Not in any particular way he could describe and for seemingly no particular reason, but here he was, sat in the sitting room of 221b feeling quite… odd.

“You ok there, Mycroft?” John Watson peered at him curiously.

“Yes. I believe so. I’m just, I suddenly,” he paused, unable to frame it properly. He looked at John, attempting to pull his “I’m deducing you” face, but had the feeling that it looked more squinty than usual. He might also be leaning slightly, but he couldn’t quite find it in him to right himself. “Are you allllright, Doctor Watzun.”

He watched John glance nervously at Sherlock before speaking up, but it felt like he was about three seconds behind, which was a horribly unusual feeling. 

“Yeah, mate. I’m fine.” 

He felt himself lean a little further to the left.

Sherlock and John both jumped up to assist him. 

“What the hell is happening, Sherlock?” John hissed.

“I don’t know? I didn’t do anything… Honestly. I didn’t”

Mycroft didn’t know what all of the fuss was about. Now that he was growing a bit more accustomed to this odd feeling it was really quite relaxing. Comforting almost. He really just wanted a nap.

“Mycroft. Stay awake for a moment.” John commanded, rather rudely, Mycroft thought. “I just need to check you over.”

Mycroft couldn’t help the giggle, that turned into a chuckle before stating, “it’s been quite awhile since anyone’s said that to me, Doctor Watson.” He giggled more at the shocked expression on John’s face. Sherlock snorted, so at least someone found his joke funny.

John was suddenly looking deep into his eyes and shining a pen light directly into his pupils. 

“Ow. Christ.” Mycroft tried to back away. 

“Pupils are dilated.” He grabbed Mycroft’s wrist. “Pulse elevated. How are you feeling now, Mycroft.”

“‘M fine. Sleepy. A bit hungry, perhaps. But overall, quite relaxed. Could I perhaps have another of those marvelous scones?”

Mycroft relaxed back into the sofa and missed the worried expressions on both John and Sherlock’s faces. 

“Sherlock? Those scones. Did you perhaps pinch them from Mrs. Hudson?” 

“Yes, but I…”

“Christ, Sherlock. Her “herbal soothers.” They’re in the scones. They’re drug scones. Did you eat any?”

“Does it look like I’ve eaten any? Of course I haven’t. You said get tea together and I did. We didn’t have any biscuits so I thought I’d pinch a few scones to throw on a plate.”

“Jesus!” Mycroft winced at the volume. “How many did he eat?”

“Just the one. I hope.” Mycroft helpfully held up his index finger, indicating that he did indeed only eat one scone. 

“That’s an awful big scone. Does he… regularly imbibe?” 

“I’m the druggy of the family if you please, John.”

Mycroft finally spoke up. “There’s mari… marji… pot in the scones?”

John looked hesitant. “Yeah. I think there is, mate.”

“I haven’t done that since uni. Why haven’t I done this since uni? Christ, this feels wonderful.”

“Fuck, Sherlock. What are we going to do? I've got Rosie down for a nap in the next room. I can’t babysit your brother while he’s off his tits.”

Mycroft giggled again. 

“Uhhhh…”

“Can you call for his car to pick him up?”

Sherlock looked slightly panicked and was trying to think quickly. “I don’t have the number for his car and Anthea will kill me if she finds out about this.”

“Pfff.” Mycroft supplied unhelpfully. “No-fun-freddie.”

Sherlock and John looked at Mycroft before looking at each other. “Call Lestrade,” they said in unison.

Mycroft attempted rather valiantly to sit up straighter at that name. Things were about to get very interesting.

“Lestrade.” Greg Lestrade barked into the phone, not bothering to look at who was calling.

“Greg. I need your help.”

“We’re on a…” Greg registered that Sherlock had used his name. “God. What happened?’

“It’s Mycroft. He’s at Baker street.”

“What the hell did you do to him!?”

“ _ I  _ didn’t do anything to him. He’s fine. Just a little… incapacitated.” 

“K. Uh.” He looked around desperately before finding Sally. “Donovan? Sorry. You’re gonna have to finish up here. Emergency. Baker street.” He put his phone back to his ear. “Right give me 20 minutes with traffic.”

“Wait! Before you hang up. I need you to pick up a few things. Uh, he wants a…  _ are you sure?  _ Fine. He wants a quarter pounder with cheese and extra pickles.” Greg could hear someone mumbling on the other side of the phone. “Make that a meal.” Sherlock huffed. “Upsized with a chocolate milkshake for the drink.  _ Oh for God’s sake. More?”  _ The mumbling seemed very insistent. “And a family sized bag of… Doritos.”

“And that’s for Mycroft? What? Is he getting over a break up?” He asked, getting into the car.

“Ugh if only. Please hurry, Lestrade.” 

“Right. Be there as quick as I can.” He finally hung up. Mind torn between figuring out just what the hell could be wrong with Mycroft versus where the closest McDonald’s was.”

Mycroft could always admit to himself that he  _ might  _ harbour just the smallest infatuation with the good Detective Inspector Lestrade. But to see Greg Lestrade in the doorway of 221b, come to rescue him and provide for him his much needed sustenance, Mycroft would admit to God and everyone on this Tuesday afternoon that he was head over heels in love with the man. 

“Oh. You blessed angel. Please help me, Gregory. These barbarians won’t even give me a crumb of food. I’m wasting away.” Mycroft rolled off of the couch and hurried as best he could to Lestrade, planting a kiss on his knight in shining armor’s cheek, while grabbing the Mcdonald’s bag from his hand. He didn’t pay attention to the three shocked faces as they watched him reach inside the bag, grab a handful of chips, and stuff them in his mouth. The moan that rang throughout the flat as the hot, greasy, salty chips touched his taste buds, was not a sound that Mycroft had made since that trip to Barbados where he met that restaurant owner almost twenty years ago. Christ, but this was good.

“Oh these are heavenly,” he said around his mouthful of chips. He reached back into the bag and pulled out the straw. Unwrapping it with haste, he took three attempts at getting the straw through the lid before he finally succeeded and grabbed the milkshake out of Greg’s hand. Had milkshakes always been this good? 

Taking a moment to process what he was seeing, Greg finally gave his head a shake and looked at John and Sherlock. “Right so…”

“Ok. So before I tell you…”

“He ate one of Mrs. Hudson’s drug scones, didn’t he?” He interrupted Sherlock.

“Yes. Wait. How did you know?”

“She almost offered one to me once, before realising which scones those were. Tried to say they had too much cinnamon.”

“Oh. The cinnamon is,” Mycroft kissed his fingers like a chef. All three sets of eyes looked back at Mycroft as he popped the lid off of his shake and dipped a chip inside.

“Why couldn’t  _ you  _ two deal with this?” Lestrade was getting a little desperate. Seeing Mycroft, loose, like this was  _ doing things  _ to Lestrade. Things that he had hoped he would never have to deal with.

“Rosie’s almost done her nap.”

“And do you really want me dealing with drug withdrawal, Lestrade?”

“Besides. He seems to like you.” They all watched as Mycroft grinned at Greg and blinked at him before shaking his head and trying again, this time somewhat successfully accomplishing a wink.

Greg huffed out a breath. “Alright. Ok, Mycroft, let’s get you back home.” 

“Oh thank God, Greg. I need a nap.” Mycroft clutched his food to his chest and hurried to lean into Greg’s side. Mycroft refused to be of much help down the stairs so Greg was forced to wrap his arm around Mycroft to make sure he didn’t fall and break his neck.

Finally outside at the car, Greg nearly jumped at the gasp of delight Mycroft made looking at his front seat. “My Doritos! Gregory, you remembered. Oh my beloved. Thank you!”

“Don’t, uh, don’t worry about it. Happy to help.” Greg was not going to remark on the pet names and the kiss and the everything about this encounter so far. Poor Mycroft had unknowingly consumed what seemed to be a rather large quantity of what Greg could only presume would be very high quality weed. He may not have been allowed to indulge in quite a number of years, but even he knew that to comment on Mycroft’s actions right now would be in rather bad taste. So instead he did what he had done many times over and helped one of the Holmes’s down from their high.

Mycroft could not get over just how gentlemanly his Gregory was. Seeing that both of Mycroft’s hands were full with his prized McDonald’s, Gregory had opened the door for him and held the Doritos out of the way for Mycroft to wiggle his way into the passenger seat. He even helped Mycroft put his seatbelt on to ensure he’d be safe. Mycroft smiled gratefully at him and made himself comfortable. The car smelled of Greg’s cologne, stale fast food, and stolen cigarettes. It was wonderful, thought Mycroft. So manly and so very in keeping with his rugged, hard-working Gregory. Greg hopped into the driver’s seat, put the Doritos beside Mycroft and buckled up. 

“Ok. What’s your address?”

“Oh. Uhhh. That’s uh.” Mycroft thought.

Huffing out a long suffering sigh, Greg looked at Mycroft and smiled gently. “Maybe it’s easier if we just go back to mine for now?”

Mycroft’s face lit up in a smile that Greg didn’t even know Mycroft was capable of. It was frankly adorable. 

“Gregory! That’s such a good idea. You are so smart!”

“Yeah. Well, feel free to tell your brother that.” He started the car and pulled into the street.

“I will… Right after I finish my cheeseburger.” 

Greg kissed away his pipe dream of Sherlock never calling him an idiot again as Mycroft was quickly distracted by pulling the top bun off of his burger, dumping the last of his chips on the sandwich, and closing it back up before taking a rather impressively large bite out of it. 

“How you holding out there, Mycroft?” Greg asked, changing lanes.

“Can I be honest with you, Gregory?” Mycroft was sucking that last remnants of his milkshake up noisily.

“Uh, of course.” Greg tried not to panic.

“I feel so good. This is the most relaxed I’ve been in ages.”

"Well. I mean… that's nice. Shame that it is still illegal."

Greg could almost hear the record scratch of Mycroft's brain coming to a stop. 

"You're right! Remind me. I really must do something about that." 

“Yeah. I’ll, I’ll do that.”

Mycroft finished his McDonald’s and sighed happily. 

“Gregory?”

“Yes?”

“Would you mind terribly if we listened to some music? I could plug in my phone.”   
“Oh. Yeah for sure. Go ahead.” Greg tried not to sound too surprised and handed over the aux cord.

Mycroft stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he carefully plugged his phone in and scrolled through his music selection. “I hope you don’t mind. This song is just so lovely,” Mycroft said somewhat apologetically as Carnival by The Cardigans began to play. 

“Oh. No. This is good. It’s fun.” Greg was shocked as Mycroft bobbed his head along to the song and opened the bag of Doritos. He offered the bag to Greg who took one and ignored Mycroft’s smile as he shoved the crisp in his mouth.

“Thank you for helping me. You’re very kind to do this, Gregory.” 

“It’s alright. I’ve spent enough time helping your brother, suppose it’s only fair you get a turn.” 

“You’re so lovely.”

“Uh…”

“To say that. You didn’t let me finish. You are so lovely to say that.”

“Oh. Heh.” He smiled awkwardly.

“But you’re also very handsome.” Greg choked on some stray crumbs caught in his throat. Mycroft tried to help by slapping him on the back but it very quickly turned into more of a caress. “I’m sorry if that was unwanted. I merely wished to be truthful.” Mycroft didn’t sound at all sorry.

“No,” Greg pounded the last couple coughs out of his chest and blinked away the tears in his eyes. “No. That’s alright. I just wasn’t expecting that. That’s, uh, kind of you.” 

“Not at all.” Greg struggled to keep his eyes on the road as he saw Mycroft out of the corner of his eyes look at him as if he’d hung the moon. But then Mycroft got distracted by eating more Doritos, so Greg was free to safely drive them home.

“Mycroft?”   
“Hmmm?”

“Are we listening to West End Girls?”   
“Yes! Isn’t it fun. I’ve always enjoyed this one. You didn’t think I was boring did you? I don’t  _ just  _ listen to classical music.” Mycroft sounded a bit desperate, as if he was trying to show the other kids at school that he was like them.

“No. Of course you’re not boring. I’m just learning more about you, I suppose. I didn’t peg you for a Pet Shop Boys type of person.But yes. It’s a very catchy song.”

“It is. I wore through the mixtape I had this on.” 

Greg smiled and chuckled for the first time since he found himself in this situation. And what a situation this was. Why was this his life? Greg laughed and then laughed some more and Mycroft joined in and before Greg knew it they were both almost choking on laughter, Greg thankful that he came to a red light.

“Why, why are we laughing?”

Greg merely started to laugh all over again.

***

Finally at home, Greg helped Mycroft out of the car and up to his flat.

“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to tidy up. I hadn’t realised I’d have guests.” He looked at the dishes in the sink and the carpet that needed a good hoovering. 

“Not at all. Not at all. It’s lovely. Just like you.” Mycroft smiled widely and Greg hoped to God he didn’t see him blush.

“So, uh, did you want to sleep this off? I could go change the sheets and you could rest if you want?” He changed the subject.

“No. I think I want to finish my crisps first. We could perhaps watch a film if you aren’t too busy.” He looked at Greg with pleading eyes.

“Of course. Anything in particular you wanna watch?” 

“Do you have Pride and Prejudice? The one with…”

“Colin Firth?” “Kierra Knightly.” They said in unison.

Mycroft smiled at Greg and purred “Oh, Gregory. You must know that I of course adore Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy.” Greg had a sudden need to cross his legs but resisted. He could only hope that his slight shifting wouldn’t give away just what Mycroft’s voice was doing to him. “But of course, it’s a mini series rather than a film, so I’d need to spend all day with you to watch that. But for now, I say we watch the 2005 Pride and Prejudice with the beautiful cinematography and then later we can watch Colin Firth’s and compare.”

Greg cleared his throat. “Uh. Sure. Yeah. Just let me…” He stealthily bought a copy of it online through his phone. “Yup. Right here. Why don’t you make yourself at home.” Mycroft immediately toed his shoes off, sank into the couch, and wrapped himself up in the throw blanket Greg had left for just such an occasion. “And I’ll make us some tea.”

Mycroft hummed and wriggled further into the couch as Greg quickly set to boiling the kettle digging out the nice tea his mum had gotten him to keep at his place for when she came over. When it was ready, he brought in the mugs, handed one to Mycroft before sitting an appropriate distance away from him on the couch, and started up the film.

Mycroft scooted close to him and curled up into his side. “Is this alright?”

“Yeah. Sure. As long as you’re comfy.” He focused on the screen.

“Mmm. Very.” He sighed happily. His Gregory smelled so nice. Mycroft would have to find out which cologne he used. “The soundtrack for this film is so beautiful. I play it on the piano at home quite often.”

“I thought you might play piano. You’ve got those long, slim piano playing fingers,” Greg said before thinking.

Mycroft chuckled and turned his face into Greg’s shoulder. “That’s not all they’re good for.”    
Greg squeaked. “Alright.” He paused the film. “I think that something is happening here and that’s… good. But perhaps we shouldn’t quite start something while you aren’t completely sober, Mycroft.”

Mycroft kissed his way up his shoulder to Greg’s neck. “You’re such a good man, Gregory.”

“God. Please, Myc. Don’t make this more difficult than it already is. Tell you what.” He turned to face him. “After we finish this movie and you take a nap and sleep this off, if you still fancy me we can go out for dinner together.”   
“Oh Gregory! You marvelous creature, you!” Mycroft threw his arms around Greg, forgetting that he was still holding his tea.

“Jesus Christ!” Greg jumped off the couch.

“Oh Gregory I’m so sorry!” Mycroft hurried, as much as he could, off of the couch to help his Greg. 

Greg was busy trying to hold his shirt away from his skin, but thankfully it cooled down quickly. He calmed down and looked at Mycroft who looked near to tears.

“Gregory. I’m so sorry. But I’d completely understand if you no longer wish to take me to dinner.” His bottom lip quivered. 

“Aw, Myc. Not at all. It was just an accident. It doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m alright. See?”   
Mycroft looked up from his self pitying at Greg. He began to giggle. Greg gave him a questioning look. 

“If there had been anymore tea in that mug, you’d have really looked like Mr. Darcy.” 

Greg smiled. “Well next time you decide that you want to role play your favourite movie, maybe next time warn the guy before you go around throwing tea on him.” He laughed. “I’m going to put on a fresh shirt and then we can finish the film.”

Mycroft nodded and as Greg was in his bedroom, Mycroft found a tea towel and mopped up the mess before refilling his mug.

Everything set back to normal and Greg in a fresh, dry, clean smelling sweater, Mycroft carefully cosied back up under Greg’s arm.

“Gregory. Just one little peck? Just to truly make sure I’m forgiven.” He looked up at Greg and pursed his lips. 

“Alright. One quick kiss.” Greg grinned and brought their lips together. And if it wasn’t the world’s shortest kiss, Greg figured that he’d probably be forgiven.


End file.
